


This Heart is Vacant Until Further Notice

by EvilPeaches



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Also Making Love Too, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Eadu Facility, Eadu Facility Timeframe, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Galen is also bad at lying to himself, Galen is somewhat bad at cold hard revenge, Gratuitous Rimjob, Grief, Jealousy, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Rough Sex, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28366476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilPeaches/pseuds/EvilPeaches
Summary: Even after all this time, after every horrible thing that has happened, some things are left unchanged. Even after all the cruel things that have been said and done. Despite it all, Orson Krennic still occasionally looks at Galen in a manner that speaks to his thoughts.Still, even with all this burning hatred and ash between them, he still believes Galen belongs to him.Sometimes, Galen believes it too.
Relationships: Galen Erso/Orson Krennic
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	This Heart is Vacant Until Further Notice

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Wars or any of the characters. 
> 
> **AN:** Holy shit people. WTF is up with this Orson/Galen smut I keep writing? Send help.  
> If I've missed a minor detail from the books, don't come for me T.T

A part of Galen always knew that Orson Krennic would find them. Like a bloodhound, Krennic trails after power and glory with an insatiable need. Without Galen to finish the work on his machine of death and war, his climb to greatness likely stalled right along with the project.

Indeed, Galen knew Krennic would hunt him down to the ends of the galaxy, if only to make him finish what they started. He’s spiteful like that, obsessive.

It’s an oversight that Galen didn’t realize that their fated reunion would go so terribly wrong. Full of lies, old jealousies and disappointments, the stain of crimson blood on fabric.

If the Force demands sacrifice for wrongdoings against the laws of nature, then Lyra is Galen’s first punishment to suffer. Like an ice pick, straight to the heart, watching her gunned down as she tries to protect him. His love, his beautiful wife, a sparkling ray of hope in a galaxy going dark.

There and gone in a blink, in his arms as her heart flutters to a final stop. His heart closes even as it breaks, staring down at her face in disbelief.

Krennic is bleeding, cursing in multiple languages. He stares poisonously at where Galen holds his deceased bride. There is no mercy in Krennic, no give, even in the face of Galen’s despair. “Leave her for the carrion birds,” he tells his troopers as they collect Galen, dragging him towards the transport. 

Horror suffuses Galen in a strange, cold miasma. Freezing his soul. He blearily looks to the Director, because this is too cruel, even for Krennic. His hatred, his envy of Lyra could not possibly go so deep. As Krennic nurses the wound on his shoulder, his eyes are all flame and fury as he stares back at Galen. “Let the traitorous bitch rot on this backwater planet. Where she _belongs_.”

As the death troopers drag Galen onto the transport, he finds himself bending what remains of his pride. His soul will not let Lyra be desecrated in this manner, not because Orson Krennic has always held a grudge against her. The Director's wounded arm is being tied up in a sling and Galen pleads thickly, "Krennic. Please don't leave her here like this."

Krennic winces as his shoulder sling is tightened by one of his men. His eyes glance off of Galen, as if he finds himself too angry to even look at him. Everyone stands in silence, waiting for the order to take off. Instead, Krennic growls a bit, turning only slightly to say to one of the trioopers, "I've changed my mind. Collect the body."

Galen doesn't thank him. 

The flight away feels like a thousand deaths. Galen wonders if his heart is still beating and checks occasionally, pressing a finger to the pulse in his wrist to see. The Director ignores him, a certain cloud of anger and bloody hate hovering about him. As if he blames Galen for how this all had to happen.

That’s fine; Galen doesn’t want his attention. He’s not sure he can fathom speaking to his former friend ever again. Not after _this_.

They send Galen to an Imperial reeducation institution, hoping to quickly quell any thoughts of doubt and betrayal in his mind. The only thing the horrid, sterile place does is allow him to wallow in his grief. To try and accept what has happened, only he can’t.

His fingers seem stained with Lyra’s blood and his guilt that Jyn is now alone somewhere consumes him.

Grief is an ugly emotion and he tries to drown himself in it. The staff inject him with drugs, the kinds that make him calm and numb. They make his brain fuzzy, less sharp. They put him in front of holoprojectors that continually harp on the greatness of the Empire, how it will bring peace to the galaxy.

How everyone will thrive.

All Galen cares about is how the drugs numb him, taking the edge off of the agony in his soul.

Galen pretends he is softening his mind to these ideas, though it pains him to even think of regurgitating such trash. Grief eats at the corners of his mind whenever the drugs begin to fade, making his nights long. Sorrow is a terrible companion. He almost wishes he were angry, but he barely feels a thing anymore.

Krennic visits, once in a while, looking well-put together and distant, like a far-off moon. His eyes take in Galen’s state with a certain distaste.

 _I’m sorry,_ Galen thinks snidely, _does my appearance not live up to your expectations?_

“I’m being told you aren’t eating,” Krennic says simply, displeasure in every word. As if put out that he needed to visit the institution for such a trivial matter. “You will finish the research you started, if it’s the last thing you ever do. Starving is not going to save you. I’ll have them inject nutrients, if I must.”

Galen would rather not go through such a tedious affair. “That won’t be necessary.”

Now, Krennic sniffs a bit, nose wrinkling. “Galen. When the hell is the last time you bathed?”

Truthfully, he isn’t sure. He doesn’t care, numb at his core. He has little energy, these days. Depression must be pulling him downward. “A week ago. Or so.”

Krennic stares at him, a hint of who he used to be, decades ago, peering through the mask of Imperial perfection. “I don’t want you to be here. I’d like to take you out of here now, but that skull-fucking bastard Tarkin doesn’t trust you.”

“He’s a cautious man.”

Those lips curl into a sneer. “He’s an animated, self-important corpse.”

Perhaps, years ago, Galen would have chuckled at Krennic’s irritability. Not now. He’s too broken inside, feels like disappearing into the dark of space, feels like being turned inside out. “How long will I stay here?”

The sneer disappears. “Do you want to be here?”

“I don’t want to _be_.” That must be the drugs talking, because Krennic looks vaguely troubled, pale eyes flickering with something that Galen can’t define. For a moment, it looks like his old friend would like to reach out and touch his shoulder, to try and comfort him.

And yet, Krennic stops himself, perhaps seeing the warning in Galen’s dark eyes. Krennic’s hands clench into fists briefly before opening once more, as if holding back his yearning to connect with sheer willpower alone.

If there is solace to be found somewhere in the galaxy, Galen doesn’t want to find it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Krennic doesn’t come to the facility on Eadu often. He hates the planet, he confides in Galen sometime after they arrive.

When he does come, he’s distant, aloof. Enjoys lording his power over everyone inside the facility. Even though Galen is the head engineer, the lead scientist, everyone still trembles before Orson Krennic. It’s clear to Galen now, that Krennic thrives on making others fear him. He thrives on holding their lives in his cruel hands.

This is why no one cares that his visits are rare.

Galen suspects the lack of visits come from the fact that Krennic doesn’t want to see Galen more than he has to. He doesn’t like being reminded of what he once had and what he has no chance of having again. Not after what he did to Lyra.

This doesn’t mean that Krennic doesn’t slip, occasionally. Sometimes, when Galen unveils something fantastic, Krennic will give him an honest, brilliant smile, making him seem decades younger. If anyone were looking closely, they would have wondered at that, seeing the vicious, unpredictable man look at his head scientist in such a way.

There are the rare times that Galen finds himself alone with Krennic, times when the conversation, no matter how bitter or bland it may be, lulls completely. How, in that silence, their eyes meet and Krennic’s breathing changes. How his gaze becomes dilated in the way that Galen used to find so attractive, the way blue eyes would go nearly black with want.

Usually, Galen will break these spells by excusing himself quickly and Krennic will go back to being his typical abrasive self.

This unpleasant back and forth goes on for two years and Galen wallows in the numbness that consumes him. His work is the only thing that matters, the only thing that he wants to occupy his mind. He doesn’t want his emotions, because when he feels, he thinks of Lyra and Jyn.  
  


* * *

  
  
In the third year of his work, Galen gets a few new senior engineers and scientists on his team, added to his facility. There’s a woman, roughly his age, with tastefully greying hair and laugh lines around her dark eyes. Uma, her name is.

He learns that she’s a widow, even though she still wears her wedding band. A part of his heart aches suddenly and he gives her his condolences. He understands what it means to lose a spouse. He only hopes that she didn't lose hers in a similar fashion. He'd wish that on no one.

“Have you ever married?” She glances at his bare hand meaningfully.

Thickly, ashamed that he doesn’t wear the band, Galen nods. His voice is thick and he clears his throat. “I am a widower, actually.”

“Oh. It seems we are in the same lonely boat. I’m sorry. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. My husband has been dead for many years…but the ache never really fades. It’s like a wound.”

Rubbing his bare finger, where his ring used to be, Galen tries to crush the sorrow that threatens to overwhelm him. He doesn’t wear the band anymore, because he isn’t blind to the way that Krennic’s eyes glance at it with reckless jealousy.

He remembers the vulnerability and hope that flickered in those blue eyes the first time Krennic realized that Galen no longer wore it.

It’s cruel, Galen thinks, what he’s doing to Krennic.

All that’s left in Galen’s heart is ash and stone. He’s numb, where passion used to burn so brightly.  
  


* * *

  
  
“The Director told me I’m getting a promotion,” Uma tells him in the lab one day, sounding rather proud of herself. “I’m so glad my efforts are being recognized.”

A zing of _something_ knifes Galen, but only briefly. He keeps a straight face, looking under a microscope studiously. “He’s always good at recognizing talent. Keep up your great work and Krennic will reward you.”

Adjusting her goggles, Uma hands him a new reflecting glass, their gloved hands touching. “Just how long have you worked for him? Sometimes you seem…familiar with him.”

A tight, barely there smile pulls at his mouth. Galen doesn’t smile, not really. Not these past few years. “I’ve worked for him a few different times over the past decade. But I’ve known him since our school days on Brentaal.”

Her head tilts curiously and her sharp mind does some calculations. “You’re old friends with him.”

“Something like that. We have our ‘on and off’ phases, as some might say.”

She laughs softly at that. “Like high-school sweethearts. Hot for one year, then hating each other the next, only to make-up once again. It’s interesting to imagine him like that. Very funny.”

Galen feels an ‘almost’ chuckle build in his chest, wanting to break through, yet not able to. “My wife thought something to that note as well. Then again, she always thought he was too attached.”

“Ah, that’s right. He would have known her.”

“Yes, but don’t _ever_ mention her to him.” Perhaps that comes out a little too fast, too sudden.

Uma looks perpetually confused with her big goggles on, but now he hears an odd note in her voice as she says, “ _Oh_. I wouldn't dream of it.”  
  


* * *

  
  


The months drag on and Galen has found his soul beginning to warm again. Uma is pulling him from his shell of constant, numb misery. It’s nice to talk to someone meaningfully again, without having to walk on eggshells. Without feeling like they expect something from you.

Some days, she reminds him of Lyra.

One particularly stormy day, Galen gets hailed by Krennic’s transport. “I’ll be at your facility in ten minutes.”

Warning the rest of the workers that the Director is arriving with little notice, everyone rushes in a flurry, trying to make their work stations look pristine and presentable. People attempt fixing their hair, tucking in their uniforms, knowing how Krennic values presentation.

Galen does none of these things himself. He finds he doesn’t need to make an effort and his lack of effort only irritates Krennic more. This is something that Galen basks in.

Going to the landing pad, Galen arrives to greet Krennic outside, just as he lands. The storm is raging and water and fury whip the Director’s white cape about insidiously. “Inside,” Krennic snarls as he roughly brushes by Galen.

 _Ah_. It’s one of those days.

The sliding doors whisk shut behind them, slightly drowning out the thundering of the rain. Krennic’s strides are short and fast, but Galen has little trouble keeping up with him. They go to his office on the far side of the facility and Galen assumes he’s in for a scolding.

He’s been artificially slowing the research down. Dragging his heels. He had hoped that no one noticed.

Krennic paces the room for a few moments, looking like a caged tiger in the face of Galen’s cool patience. Pouring himself a stiff drink from the bar cart, Krennic finally makes his way to his desk, all under Galen’s watchful gaze.

“Tarkin is looking to take over the project. The Emperor is displeased with progress. You’ve slowed down, immeasurably.” Krennic sits behind his desk, face hard. Nothing matters more to him than pleasing the Emperor and the very idea of Tarkin taking what he’s worked so long on probably chafes something terrible.

“These things take time, Krennic. You know this.”

His face flushes with emotion at Galen’s words. His voice rises precariously. “I know I give you every possible resource at my disposal! That’s what I _know_! And still, you attempt to make a mockery of me. Well done, Galen! _Well done_.”

Keeping a calm expression, Galen wonders how he will calm this storm. If Krennic leaves the project, Galen will be exposed. Tarkin is no fool and Tarkin isn’t blinded by an old friendship when it comes to Galen. While Krennic isn’t friendly, isn’t exactly a friend anymore, he isn’t actively looking for a reason to end Galen’s life.

Taking Galen’s silence for indifference, Krennic gives him a cold, thin lipped smile. “Perhaps I should just give you to Tarkin. He’d have you executed, when he’s done with you. Maybe after suffering him, you’d realize how good you have it with me. Would you beg for me to come back, I wonder?”

There’s a small sliver of vulnerability there. A whisper of their old relationship. A jibe that Krennic would like to be the one to do the leaving this time, as Galen had done to him.

“Well?” Krennic demands, eyes spitting pale blue venom. “Is that what you want? Would you like that old sack of rotting flesh breathing down your neck instead of me-”

“No.” It’s a simple answer, but it’s also the truth. He needs Krennic to stay in charge. Krennic, who is less likely to see the flaw that Galen has planned so carefully. “I wouldn’t.”

A cruel expression is shaping Krennic’s face, full of bitterness and disdain. “Oh? Pray tell, why is that, Galen?”

Carefully, questioning his own sanity, Galen loosens his collar slightly, tilting his head to the side in a small motion of baring his neck to the other man. Krennic’s nostrils flare at the sudden movement, eyes riveted.

He chooses the words carefully, tries to think of what will stroke that hidden possessiveness inside of the other man. To prove his loyalty to him. “You know that you are the only one I have ever let breathe down my neck, Orson. I don’t intend for that to change.”

His double meaning is clear.

Those cold eyes heat up substantially, midnight pupils spreading quickly over icy irises. When Krennic gets up from behind his desk, slowly stalking around towards Galen, he knows he’s caught his fish. When Krennic comes to stand just behind Galen, he feels his heart flutter nervously, not used to having the other man behind him so close, so predatorial.

Not in recent years, anyway.

Galen tells himself it’s a necessary pain. It’s for his revenge, nothing more, nothing less.

“You shouldn’t say such things to me when you have no intention of following through,” Krennic hisses lowly in Galen’s ear, though he doesn’t touch him. “You’re nothing but a tease, Erso.”

Closing his eyes, trying to dissociate himself from his body, Galen softly says, “I’m not teasing you. I’m giving you something to show my appreciation for your efforts at this station. To prove that I’ll work harder to provide faster results.”

Hands fall heavily to his hips and Galen almost shudders. “Is that so?” A whisper. “Put your hands on my desk and bend forward.”

Galen does as told, allowing clumsy hands to undo his belt and trousers, roughly pushing them down. Galen’s not hard, not aroused in the slightest and he doesn’t think he needs to be. This isn’t about affection or desire. It’s about control. Power. His submission.

These are things that Krennic truly relishes.

As unaffected as Krennic tries to appear by this allowance, it’s more than clear to Galen how excited and overwhelmingly eager he is. His hard cock is hot and wet between the cheeks of Galen’s ass as he gives a few initial thrusts, humping against him from behind.

He shoves his fingers in Galen’s mouth before placing them inside roughly, barely stretching Galen. Galen steels himself, because he knows this isn’t going to be an easy ride. Krennic is too enthusiastic, too out of control. The Director has waited too long for this and Galen suspects he’s going to suffer for it.

Galen knows the cock that works its way inside of him. Thick, uncut. Not overly long, but good at stretching and filling in all the right ways. He also knows that without preparation, it’s going to be a nightmare.

And, it is.

There is no finesse to it. No, this is a terrible, base act. Full of anger and bitterness. Krennic tries to seem detached, but the tremble in his hands gives him away. His thrusts, rough and punishing, are full of a certain sort of anxiety, as if afraid Galen will simply disappear into smoke.

As if it never happened.

The sounds of their crude coupling echo in the room, the slaps of their bodies meeting punctuated by Krennic’s lewd groans and grasping fingers. His teeth, sinking into the flesh just above Galen’s collar. It hurts. All of it. In his excitement to have Galen, the Director hadn’t prepared Galen’s body for his brutal intrusion.

Galen squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth to keep his gasps of discomfort to a minimum. His fingers clutch the edge of the desk hard, trying to keep upright. He tells himself that this is what he deserves.

As Krennic’s climax nears, he leans over Galen completely, forcing his chest to rest over Krennic’s desk. Krennic is whispering his name under his breath and Galen only feels small specks of desire over that fact, hearing the need dripping from those impassioned utterances. There are snippets of other bitten off words, like _finally, it’s been so long, you’re still mine, always been mine,_ and _still so tight, so good._

The act doesn’t last very long and soon enough, Krennic is giving an embarrassed little whine in the back of his throat, thick cock pulsing deep inside of Galen. It’s over and Galen hasn’t come and likely won’t. The fact doesn’t bother him in the slightest; it would be a betrayal to Lyra. Distasteful, to enjoy the man who so spitefully ended her life.

They are both silent, even though Galen makes a pained sound as Krennic disengages from him wetly, a splatter of seed following his exit. For a second, Galen’s humiliation almost seems complete. He closes his eyes, as if it will help him disappear, even as Krennic walks away from him, going to stare out the window.

After a moment of nothing, no commands, no words, Galen forces himself straight, gazing over at his former friend. He starts hesitantly, “Krennic-”

“You may go,” Krennic states emotionlessly from where he stands by the window, his back to Galen, all but ignoring him. The perfect image of an Imperial Officer once more.

Galen bows his head and pulls his trousers back into place. Hopes what has happened isn’t completely written on his face. When he leaves, a burn between his legs, a deep ache in his abdomen, Galen finds that he feels something other than numb for the first time in a long time.

He feels like a whore.

In remembering Lyra’s smile, he suddenly decides that he deserves to feel this dirty, this used.

His punishment.  
  


* * *

  
  
The fruits of Galen’s sacrifice wins out. Though he suffers through lower body pain for a few days, relishing his own suffering, Tarkin does not take over the project. Resources continue to flow to their station on Eadu without question or pause. It seems that the Director has slyly talked his way out of losing the project, convinced the Emperor that conditions will absolutely improve.

Regardless, Krennic stays away for some time. Galen almost wonders if their horrid moment on Krennic’s desk even happened at all, after the ache in his body fades completely.   
  
In fact, he can almost pretend it was all a nightmare, meant to torture him for working on the Death Star.  
  


* * *

  
Another month passes.

They are forced to host an affair for the many investors of the Eadu facility. A tedious event; social parties for political gain were never Galen’s strong suit. People in fine clothes mill about, drinking, laughing. Networking with false smiles and grins. Overdone compliments worth nothing.

Galen is a wallflower, as he prefers. It’s his design to remain separate, to simply observe. There is no one here he truly wants to speak with, aside from his own team of scientists. Many of them are anxiously trying to avoid notice, just like him, so Galen doesn’t approach them. He tends to attract attention, even if he’s not overly social.

He has a famous name, amongst the investors. He does nothing to increase his popularity, regardless. He blames Krennic, who likely regals them all with Galen’s _many virtues_. Of how all the work would have been stalled permanently without him. 

As the night wears on, the Director arrives like Lord to his throne, looking pristine in his white uniform. He greets multiple investors all at once, smirking at them widely, grabbing a drink from one of the roving servers. Galen watches as he takes a long swig, gulping down the liquor. Galen watches the way Krennic’s throat works and then looks away.

Typical Orson, preparing to become the center of attention, as he’s always enjoyed.

Galen isn’t prepared for how his stomach twists, seeing him again, after this long absence. It’s in his mind, remembering how Krennic’s cock feels, hot and aching inside of him. He can’t forget how excited the other man was, to finally have him again. To finally have Galen _bend and submit_. Galen cringes internally, not wanting to be confronted by these unwanted feelings.

As he’s sterilizing his thoughts, Uma approaches him, penetrating his solitude in the crowded room. “I never liked these events,” she says to him with a conspiratorial smile.

“Neither have I.” He sighs, sipping his whiskey. “Alas, I have no escape.”

“Such is the life of an important lead scientist,” she laughs a little louder than she normally would, dark eyes bright with too much champagne. Liquid courage, she says, to ease her nerves in a room of snakes.

“Sometimes I wonder if they would notice me slipping away.” Galen replies. “It’s not like they come here to listen to me talk about crystals.”

Her smile is infectious and her dark eyes remind him of Lyra, making his heart beat sadly, even as he smiles back at her. If Galen were a better man, he would tell her not to smile at him like that, that she shouldn’t look at him with such fondness. “I think they just come here to drink and forget their miserable lives. They like to have others tell them how great and successful they are. Nauseating.”

“Force save us from important, power-hungry men, who are always fishing for compliments.” Galen chuckles lowly and Uma sways closer to him, covering her mouth to giggle. Her shoulder brushes his and she’s looking up at him, her nose not too far from his chin.

It’s already too late when Galen realizes that Uma is standing far too close to him. With a certain amount of guilt, guilt that he shouldn’t even have to feel, he glances to where a large crowd is surrounding the life of the party; Orson Krennic.

As expected, the life of the party is watching Galen Erso.

Orson is watching Galen and Uma from across the room, pale eyes going that deadly, steely grey. Even though his lips are smiling charmingly at the officers beside him, his eyes tell a far different story as he meets Galen’s gaze.

Apologizing to Uma, Galen quickly excuses himself.  
  


* * *

  
  
That night, while Galen is in his room, a loud bang on his door causes him to rise from his reading. Orson Krennic stands outside, staring up at him with a certain drunken haze about him. Looking a certain mix of hungry and angry. He reeks of alcohol.

“Can I come in?”

Galen tightens his jaw, feeling tension grow thick in the air. “If that is what you want.”

Krennic steps forward, if not a little unsteadily. “ _No_ , that’s _not_ the right answer, _farmboy_. Tell me you _want_ me to come in.” His voice is loud, demanding.

Galen’s belly twists uncomfortably and he finds himself pinned by very keen eyes, regardless of the liquor in them. Galen doesn’t want to say it, but he’s also afraid of how Krennic will react if he doesn’t. His temper is legendary, even without alcohol in his veins. Galen doesn’t need his neighbors to hear this exchange. “Don’t do this. Not in the hallway.”

“Do what? Ask me to come inside? It’s a simple thing, Galen.”

“That’s not what you’re looking for and you are well aware, Krennic. Come inside or don’t, but I won’t suffer this treatment in my doorway, nor will I stroke your oversized ego.” Galen steps away from the entrance, letting Krennic make his choice.

The slightly shorter man scowls at him, nose wrinkling with a nasty emotion. There’s jealousy there, barely contained. Krennic steps into Galen’s apartment and rasps, “That’s fine. I’d rather you stroke something else.” His voice is dark, predatory. He stalks after Galen once he shuts and locks the door behind him.

His eyes look around Galen’s darkened apartment, as if searching for something. It doesn’t take Galen long to realize he’s trying to figure out if Galen is alone. Or trying to see proof that someone else has been in Galen’s home. “There’s no one else, Krennic. Only you.” He says the words with resignation, watching the way that Krennic’s shoulders relax slightly, some of his jealous tension seeping away.

They stand quietly for a moment and Galen feels his throat tighten. He’s not sure if it’s with fear, revulsion, or anticipation.

“Do you intend to show me your bedroom or will we be conducting the matter on the floor?” Krennic says it without much kindness, his words still sounding bitter.

Galen relents, shoulders sagging. There is no escaping what he has wrought. He reminds himself it’s for revenge, it isn’t because he feels for his old friend, isn’t because he wants him. They’ve not had any sort of indecent interactions since the last time, on Krennic’s desk. They’ve not even spoken, since.

“This way,” Galen says in a barely audible tone.

This time, Krennic takes him on the bed and Galen’s joints are moderately more pleased about this development. On his belly, both of them without their clothes. Stripped to only their flesh, nothing between them.

It soon becomes clear that the Director doesn’t mean for this to be an empty reflection of their last encounter. He’s behind Galen, sliding down his body. Hands, still eager and wanting, but far more controlled.

The first nuzzle of his nose, pressing between his cheeks has Galen flushing. Unwanted heat flashes in his belly as Krennic’s soft tongue seeks his entrance, slowly lapping at his tightly muscled ring like a cat. He nibbles and sucks on the sensitive flesh, massaging it with his tongue. Luxuriously, like it’s a tasty ice cream.

Galen groans into the sheets, ashamed of how quickly his member begins to fill with blood, swelling against the bed. Hearing Galen, Krennic makes a soft noise, aroused by the sound of Galen’s growing desire. His tongue is clever, devious, stroking consistently until Galen feels like a mess of flesh and bone. Krennic alternates between sucking and nibbling, taking his sweet time.

It’s almost unbearable.

He works diligently, tongue fucking into Galen with a certain eagerness that sends more unwanted heat into his body. This, unfortunately, is the lover that Galen remembers from his youth. Eager, meticulous, _experienced_.

When Krennic’s sly fingers join in with his tongue, Galen finds himself in a limbo of desire, gasping wetly against his own pillow, his spine arching, hips pressing backwards, causing Krennic to groan deliriously into Galen’s weak flesh. Krennic’s mouth disappears as he crouches up behind Galen, finding more leverage for his buried fingers. Pressing hard, massaging Galen’s prostrate until he’s a mess.

Every press is felt in Galen’s cock, sharp stings of desire hauling him towards an abyss. He feels shame, that he’s so easily played like an instrument in Krennic’s hands. He tries to convince himself that this is all in an effort to keep Krennic on his side, not because he enjoys Krennic’s body.

Three fingers stretch him now, working him loose and pliant, stroking his soft spot relentlessly. Galen feels another groan tear from his throat, no matter how hard he tries to keep his pleasured sounds to a minimum.

“Come on, Galen,” Krennic says huskily, drilling his fingers in harder. His cock is drooling precum all over Galen’s leg, evidence that Krennic is in quite the state himself. Not that Galen is surprised by that.

Even after all this time, he still has a certain effect on the other man.

Galen spills into the sheets with a broken moan, hating himself for loving the way Krennic continually fucks him with his fingers straight through it, praising him for _doing so good, for loosening so nicely for him_ _and his cock_.

When it becomes clear that Krennic can’t wait much longer, he spreads Galen’s cheeks and slowly presses his slicked cock in, groaning as he watches himself disappear in Galen’s loosened entrance. He leaves Galen feeling full, too full, but instead of thrusting, Krennic lies down on Galen, belly to his spine.

He rolls his hips and nothing more, simply shifting his uncut cock inside of Galen at his leisure, causing them both to shudder and gasp in delight.

Galen hates himself for enjoying it so thoroughly, hates his numb defenses for abandoning him to this. It’s intimate, loving. Words that shouldn’t apply to them. Not after all they have done to each other over the years.

“Is this better?” Krennic’s voice is tight, body shaking with an effort to keep still, to allow Galen to adjust. “Do you like when I take you like this?”

He never shuts up, even in bed. Galen wants to tell him to stop ruining things, but that would be hurting them both, because sometimes he _likes_ the refuse that seeps from Krennic’s mouth. Like synthetic drugs, poison in the veins with a euphoric feeling.

“Why…do you ask _-ah-_ questions you already know…. _mhm_ …the answers to?” Galen manages to say, spreading his legs ever wider, shamefully, wanting the other man deeper.

A mouth is grinning against the back of his neck. “Because I like hearing you say it.” Krennic grinds his hips into Galen’s ass, pressing his thumbs against the spot they are connected. He groans lewdly. “I love feeling you wrapped around my cock.”

 _I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you,_ is what Galen actually hears.

Unlike their last, vicious coupling, this time lasts much longer. Krennic goes slow, arms sliding around Galen, gently rocking into him with soft, adoring gasps. Sometimes he pauses his movements, going still, leaving Galen to shamefully push back against him, wanting more. In these moments, Krennic holds down Galen’s hips, practically begging him to give Krennic a moment to collect himself. “I don’t want to…not yet,” he says tightly, teeth gritted as he holds back his climax.

When they resume rocking together, Galen recognizes when Krennic begins to come close again, the way his belly starts to tighten, his breathing coming in halting pants. His hand snakes around to grasp Galen’s cock, stroking him in time with his quickening thrusts.

The sensations are too much, the heady feeling in the air nearly suffocating Galen. He’s so painfully aroused and Krennic is hitting all the right places inside of him. When Galen climaxes, clenching hard around Krennic’s cock, he hears the other man cry out his release at the same time, triggered by Galen’s pleasure.

Krennic says Galen’s name like a prayer.

His cock spasms and throbs inside of Galen, spurting thickly. Krennic groans, reaching underneath Galen to stroke and press at his belly in a way that has Galen flushing, clenching with shameful arousal.

When their breathing settles, a warmth falls over them, nearly comforting. Galen is almost disappointed to realize he doesn’t feel worthless and used after the act. He should feel something negative, he thinks. He wishes he didn’t have to sully Lyra’s memory in this way. He wishes he didn’t enjoy Krennic, the man responsible for her death. He wishes his body wasn’t so sensitive, responsive, reveling in his touch.

Galen miserably rationalizes that he’s always enjoyed Krennic; it’s a part of him that long predates Lyra.

Krennic’s voice shakes him from his musings. “I hurt you. Last time.”

Galen says nothing in response, because he thinks, _you wanted to hurt me. You wanted me to feel your years of loneliness and abandonment._

“I didn’t mean to, Galen.” Krennic sounds tired, world-weary. His hand strokes down Galen’s spine, softly, a phantom of meaning in his words. There’s age-old affection in his touches.

Galen isn’t sure what the right thing is to say. It’s as close to an apology as he will get out of the other man and frankly, Galen isn’t even certain that Krennic is telling the truth. Galen suspects that the Director is simply feeling sappy, in the aftermath of making love to Galen. Because truly, it hadn’t been fucking, the way Krennic prepared him, worshipped every inch of his body, giving and giving before even taking his own pleasure.

“Don’t speak of it,” Galen says, voice hoarse. “You were unprepared for what I asked of you. Your…roughness was not…unexpected.”

Teeth nibble at his shoulder.

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re really with me,” Krennic says into the dark room, perfumed with the scent of their coupling. His nose brushes along Galen’s neck, inhaling.

Sighing heavily, feeling the way the other man has wrapped around him, like a python, Galen can almost imagine it’s years ago, when they were younger men. The same possessiveness, the same jealous grasp. “I’m here, Orson.”

When Galen says his name, Krennic shudders, tightening around him like he never intends to let go.

It’s much later, early in the dawn hours, when Galen wakes to his body being shifted, hips being moved back and up, a body rising behind him. Spit wet fingers testing his swollen rear, checking to make sure he’s still slick. “Orson,” Galen mutters sleepily. “You’re insufferable for a man of your age.”

That delightful cock fills him and he groans as Krennic begins thrusting, in and out. Their flesh slaps loudly, wet sex noises emitting from where they are connected. “It’s your fault,” Krennic grits out, “You make me want to fuck. Once every few months isn’t going to cut it, if you must know. Not after how long I’ve _waited to fuck you again_.”

And this time, they do fuck. Like rutting beasts as Galen rises to his hands and knees, relishing the way Krennic humps into him with abandon, panting, running his atrocious mouth.

“I could have been fucking you like this _-ah-_ all these damns years, Galen. Fucking you how you like to be fucked. My cock, deep in you. Just like _this_.”

Galen groans, pressing his face downward, terribly submissive, as he knows it will spur Krennic on to greater heights.

“Stretching you, filling you with my cum.”

The sound of their flesh slapping intensifies, morning light barely peeking through the blinds, casting golden light on their shapes. The vulgarities flowing from Krennic’s mouth are fine until he turns spiteful, vicious. “Lyra never fucked you like I did.”

Galen tenses at the sound of her name. “Krennic,” he warns, even as his balls begin to tighten up.

“She would have never known all the special places in you like I do. The ones that make you black out as you scream my name. She wouldn’t have worshipped your soft, puffy ass, all full of come. _Not. Like. I. Do_.” He punctuates his words with a few hard, final thrusts before they both climax together, bodies straining.

Roughly, Krennic pulls his still hard cock out of Galen and presses his face between his cheeks, licking, soothing his sensitive, overused ring of muscle. Galen writhes, humiliated as Krennic growls, proving just how horrid they both are as he eats him out, fingernails digging into his hips, bruising.

He eats him out until Galen squirts again, weakly onto their sheets.

“You’re vile, Orson.” Galen tells him, afterwards. Sweat and come drying in the sheets, on their skin. “And I think you enjoy that fact.”

The Imperial Director smirks like a shark.  
  


* * *

  
It’s as if the floodgates have opened.

Their relationship begins once more, as if it never stopped.

And yet, some things never change. Galen finds out he’s losing a different friend, in the aftermath.

Uma approaches him in the lab not a week after the investor event that they had hosted at the facility. She tells him that she’s being transferred to a different project, in the far Outer Rim.

She looks saddened, after telling him that she’s valued his friendship and leadership on Eadu. Galen smiles weakly, a sinking feeling in his stomach, saying, “We can stay in touch. It’s always good to know a kindred spirit is somewhere in the galaxy.”

Uma agrees, patting his shoulder with calm comradery. Then, she sighs, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m simply at a loss over this, though. I thought the Director was happy with my contributions,” she tells him. “I’m not sure what I did wrong.”

Galen knows.

He also knows that it isn’t her fault.

Orson Krennic has never liked sharing Galen’s attention with a single soul in the universe and he’s not about to start now.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Comments and kudos are loved and appreciated!! ♥
> 
> But, seriously. This was supposed to be like 2000 words and rated T. It's not and I don't know how that happened XD


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